So, my 30th high school reunion has now come and gone.
I met with my friend, S. (the girl whom I mentioned I hadn't seen or spoken to in thirty years) Friday night before the reunion cocktail party. She looked great. She was always a pretty girl with dark hair and striking blue eyes but in high school she had, what I'd call, heft, to her. I mean, she was the kind of girl on the playing field who you didn't want to get entangled with. Now she's completely toned, fit and athletic - she looked great.
I ordered a dirty martini and she had a white wine and I first got caught up on her. She got married later in life (38) to a career military man and has two kids; a ten year old girl, and a seven year old boy, who, apparently, is like the Energizer bunny, keeps going and going. We finally got around to opening the yearbook and the years just melted away. So many people to recall and stories to reminisce about. But, soon enough, we headed over to the event just a few block away - fashionably late.
When we arrived their was a check-in table where you picked up a name tag with your senior photo displayed. Next, they had us fill out a questionnaire, things like, favorite movie, t.v show, what you've done in the past thirty years that most surprised you. When they asked favorite pastime I couldn't help but write, s-e-x! For me, it's probably a case of what you get least, you want most, but I'll save that topic for another post.
I went to a fairly small Catholic high school and I'd say we probably had sixty classmates (out of about 185) come (the furthest being from Germany). And considering who put the weekends events together (a few beer-drinking guys) we were lucky for that good of a turn out.
So, six hours, quite a few Heinekens, and loads of laughter later, the first night's festivities came to a close. It had been special and I had seen people across the room that I didn't even get a chance of talking to who I looked forward to catching up with the next evening.
I think one of the most interesting things for me to note was how many of my classmates, both guys and gals, had small children. Numerous girls had five years olds and there were guys with newborns and toddlers.
On Saturday, I was pleasantly (blessedly) surprised out how physically well I felt (being able to wake up after twelve hours of sleep didn't hurt!)
I met S. again on Saturday night so we could walk into that evenings sit-down dinner party together. And not long after I arrived the lead organizer of the reunion called me aside and said he needed to talk with me. My first thought was, I can't possibly be in trouble for writing that sex is my favorite pastime, can I?! He explained he needed a favor. Uh oh. Good Lord, I thought, what could it possible be? Then he said that among many of the games and awards that would be presented throughout the evening they wanted to do a "Best Excuse for Not Being Able to Attend the Reunion" contest.
You see, at Friday night's cocktail party the rumor going around was that G. (one of my best buds, who I mentioned in an earlier post, wouldn't be able to make it) had undergone an orthopedic surgery from a hip injury caused by.... a midget toss (their un-p.c. words, not mine!).
Apparently, in Venice Beach, California where he lives, such things can happen and did. So, anyway, R., the reunion organizer, had a guy to represent G, but he needed me to play the role of J.M., a classmate who was traveling in Europe with her large (she has eight kids) family on a semi-music tour and would supposedly be visiting the Pope.
So, basically, I was going to have get up in front of about 100 people and perform and impromptu skit impersonating a simple visit with the Pope versus a midget-tossing festival injury. How could I possibly make something boring (sorry Pope!) remotely interesting. I told R. I'd do it, but he was going to owe me a couple of beers for the effort. And, I also said, the guy playing G.'s role would have to do his shtick first.
So, as I enjoyed the pre--dinner cocktail hour chatting with classmates (some of whom I hadn't seen since high school) and sat down for the dinner portion of the evening, running through the back of my mind was how (the hell!) was I going to win what should be a certain loss.
After a lot of really fun high school trivia games, slide-shows and videos from years gone by, my time was at hand. The MC explained to the audience that my classmate, A. and myself were coming up before them to present our case as to why we should get the award for "Best Excuse for Not Being Able to Attend the Reunion." I took a last swig of of my beer and followed A. who was walking with crutches (WTF - he had props?!).
So, A. begins by saying, "It all started in a bar..." He goes on to explain how the midget was tossed and somehow in error went sailing right into his hip. He then relays that although he'd love to be with us all at the reunion his beautiful and buxom nurses are taking good care of him. Okay, I think, good job, as the audience laughs and claps.
The MC thanked A. for his performance and introduced me as playing the role of J.M. "Ugh, I don't wanna be doing this," was the last thing I thought before I stepped up and said, "It all started in a bar... and nineteen kids and counting (most everyone knew of J.M.'s very large family) later, I continue saying, we're like the Von Trapp family singers from the movie, The Sound of Music. We were having a great time visiting with the Pope until my oldest son somehow threw my youngest son into the Pope's hip, that's when the Swiss Guard stepped in and detained us, otherwise, I said, we'd love to be there with all of you.
For some reason, and maybe I embellished it here and there more than I remember (may have said something about beautiful, buxom nurses ministering to the Pope), it turned out sounding like a really funny story. When the MC asked for our classmates to clap for A. representing G.'s midget-tossing injury if they thought he should be the winner there was a round of polite applause. When the MC told them if they thought my representation of J.M. should win, the place erupted with cheering like our team had just scored the winning touchdown! Their clapping was so resoundingly loud for me to be the winner I actually kinda felt bad for A. (ah, who am I kidding, not really, A. was going into it cocky that he couldn't lose). It was a sweet victory : )
When our time at the dinner event finished up around 11:30 p.m. most of us went to this bar/restaurant/entertainment complex just a few blocks away that one of our classmates owns. Time definitely flies when you're having fun and our revelry continued until close to 3:00 am at which time I left some of the guys still hanging out at the bar.
In the final analysis: I'm actually always amazed that my high school reunions are as fun as they actually are. I mean you move on with your life, you have new friends, freshly-built long-term relationships, but there's something about coming together with the people who shared those formative years of your life. It's kinda crazy, in a strangely special way.
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